For the Brazilian Rocket Queen by Jonty Tiplady

Live minor America you are in my soul rock babe
in the alchemist who sent you to the corner. They sent you to the corner
with cheese muffs debonair. You
you go play with the forty yards. You go swing,
you go do the twist again. How can in
you weigh an invisible phantom weight on the pin-prick
bone sticking out the centre of the chest. Through inclusion
omit you half tender sleepy seal. Deep down I can’t make sense, it
was like you were as ugly B-e-A-u-T-I-F-u-L as the moon and
I was laden with crisps and yet was so happy to be
there again, with you in darkest happiness, and be mine. I have not
said as was, never will, never will transform, for the more
I might the more it would, and omit again. I must be scared
that happiness is like this, its
magic study a grizzle-pit half the time. It’s like when my room
resembles a hospital, my insides cry out, and
the thing seems to be the more happy I am
I went with my Mum to headbutt a cactus. How are you the love
of my life in different Google machine language. Dream a little
brief dream, under a wheelying rainbow. Those lava mice are scathing
about every poem’s end.

From: http://www.nakedpunch.com/articles/93

Date: 2008

By: Jonty Tiplady (19??- )

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